


I Know We'll Make It Anywhere (Away From Here)

by finkpishnets



Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-16
Updated: 2008-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-28 13:04:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finkpishnets/pseuds/finkpishnets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the inevitable fallout shakes the village down to its core, John Paul runs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know We'll Make It Anywhere (Away From Here)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for myfoolisheart who requested John Paul in Dublin. Title taken from Snow Patrol's _Run_. Set before Craig's return.

When the inevitable fallout shakes the village down to its core, John Paul runs. He knows it’s cowardly and immature and a thousand other derogatory terms that his family are going to hear on a daily basis, but he’s never pretended that he’s not all of those things, and besides, who can really blame him? Kieron has already gone; a claim that he’s needed elsewhere, a few hurried goodbyes before word gets around, and a long look at John Paul that says ‘I’m sorry’ and so much more, and John Paul can’t blame him. He knew what he was getting into, after all.

He does little more than throw some clothes into a rucksack and leave his mum a note telling her that he just needs to get away. It’s not enough, _will never be enough_ , but Myra’s forgiven him before and he knows that she’ll do it again. He hates that she has to, but he still wouldn’t change anything.

The airport’s crammed to the brim with families escaping on summer hols, and students making the most of their brief freedom. John Paul doesn’t notice any of them. He takes the ticket from the woman behind the desk with the too-red lipstick and peroxide hair and clutches it desperately in his hand. It’s not quite freedom, but it’s the closest thing he’s got.

The plane ride is short and John Paul loses himself in _what was_ , and _what is_ until tyres hit tarmac and he has to stop and think and wonder what the hell it is he’s doing. It’s stupid and spontaneous and _really_ not a good idea, but it’s all there is, and so he grabs his bag and follows the crowd.

The address is in his pocket; a crumpled piece of paper shoved in his hand by Darren (of all people) a few months ago with nothing more than a raised eyebrow and a look that made John Paul reassess his opinion of the older man. He never thought he’d use it, shoved it to the back of his desk draw along with multiple pictures of _friends_ and _hugs_ and _kisses_ , memories that he didn’t want to remember unless he was alone and sentimental and _just plain missing him_. It was there when he needed it.

He hails a taxi, reciting the street name to the driver in a tone lacking any of its usual joviality, and settles back to watch the unfamiliar city pass him by. He doesn’t hear the cabby ask him if he’s visiting and where he’s from, or notice the concerned look when he doesn’t respond; he’s too focused on the speed of his own racing heartbeat telling him that this is a bad idea. He ignores it too; his heart’s led him astray before, after all.

He passes over the fare, climbs out into the street, and is suddenly ridiculously aware of how _stupid_ this is. It doesn’t stop him from finding the right place and knocking on the door steadily, _once, twice, three times_. He waits, feeling as though the world’s been filled with cotton and he’s left with little more than a muffled buzzing in his ears.

The door opens and there he is looking exactly the same, _gorgeous, breathtaking_ , and staring at John Paul with undisguised shock. There’s no disgust or understanding and John Paul is glad that he must have gotten to him first, before Frankie could open her mouth and spill down long distance phone lines about how she’d been right all along to want better for her son than John Paul McQueen. Not that John Paul can blame her.

‘John Paul,’ Craig says after a moment, voice heavy. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Can I come in?’ John Paul asks, and Craig must realise that this isn’t just about _him_ and _them_ and holds the door open for him to pass.

‘Coffee?’ Craig asks, some semblance of hospitality making its way past the astonishment, and John Paul can’t help but be a little amused because Craig would never have asked had this been the flat above the Dog.

‘No, thanks,’ John Paul says, taking in the living room and dropping heavily into an armchair, not caring that he’s making himself at home without an invitation.

There’s a moments silence whilst John Paul studies his hands and Craig studies John Paul.

‘What’s happened?’ Craig asks eventually, moving to sit opposite his ex on the sofa.

‘I need you to be my best friend when I tell you this,’ John Paul says, and Craig looks confused for a second before realising what the other boy is asking.

‘Non-judgemental it is,’ Craig tells him, trying to lighten the mood and failing spectacularly.

‘I’ve messed up, big time. Again. I’m surprised you haven’t already heard; the whole village knows.’

‘Knows what?’ Craig pushes when John Paul pauses to take a few breaths and wonder whether he can actually do this.

‘They all know that I’ve been sleeping with a Catholic Priest for the past three months.’

There’s a pause. John Paul looks up and finds Craig watching him incredulously, varying expressions ranging from amusement to fury flittering across his face as he tries to get his head around what John Paul has just confessed. John Paul’s missed those expressions.

‘You’ve what?’ Craig says after a few minutes, voice an octave higher than usual.

‘I’ve been sleeping with a Priest, Kieron, for the past three months. Well, actually, I’ve only been sleeping with him for two, but we were messing around for a month before that. At first it was just kind of fun; I was missing you and he was _there_ and _cute_ , and he was really good company. A mate. Then...well, he fell for me first. He actually wanted _me_ , it was him doing the chasing, just in a really subtle way, and I loved it. Then I fell for him, too. And it was stupid; I mean, I promised myself that I was never going to get into another relationship that revolved around keeping secrets, but I just liked him _so much_. I should have known it would all blow up in my face. Now he’s gone, the whole village is once again talking about me as though _they’re_ all so damn _perfect_ , and I just...I just needed to escape. So I ran here.’

‘Wow,’ is all Craig says as he blinks rapidly.

‘Yeah.’

‘You can stay for as long as you like,’ Craig tells him after a while; he’s saying it as the Best Friend and John Paul feels safer than he has in a long time.

‘Thank you.’

 

+

 

‘Was Kieron the first?’ Craig asks him later that night as they scarf down pizza, delivered by a boy that looked no older than fourteen.

‘The first serious one, yeah. One or two kisses before, the odd date, but nothing more.’

‘Do you love him?’ Craig asks, and John Paul known he’s not imagining the slight hitch in the other boys voice.

‘Yes,’ John Paul tells him, and watches Craig shut his eyes and sigh deeply.

‘I’m not going to ask if you love him like you loved me.’

‘Good,’ John Paul says, grateful that they’re not going to go down the same angst ridden paths that they’ve tired out already. ‘For the record, I don’t.’

‘Good,’ Craig parrots, and there’s an undercurrent of amusement in his tone.

‘How about you?’ John Paul asks taking a long drink from the third beer Craig’s placed in front of him. ‘Who else has there been?’

Craig bites his lip, ‘No one.’

John Paul chuckles. ‘No, really?’

‘Really,’ Craig says, sounding more than a little defensive. ‘There’s been no one at all. I’ve been focussed on studying and making new friends and trying not to get swept up in the chaos of living on my own.’

‘Come on, Craig!’ John Paul says, his own brain clouding over with something that tells him he should drop this, but he can’t. ‘You’re single, living by yourself, and a _student_. Besides, you’re _Craig Dean!_ ’

Craig stands up, eyes narrowing briefly.

‘Things change,’ he says quietly before leaving the room.

John Paul listens to Craig’s footsteps on the stairs and thinks about what an idiot he is.

 

+

 

‘I’m sorry,’ he says the next morning, handing Craig a mug of coffee ( _white, one sugar_ ) from where he’s been fighting with the percolator; still, the coffee’s just about drinkable and it’s half six in the morning so it’s better than nothing.

‘It’s alright,’ Craig replies, wincing as the drink burns his tongue.

‘It’s not. You were great, listening to me ramble on and letting me stay, and all I did was insult you.’

‘It’s alright,’ Craig repeats, and smiles when John Paul offers him a frustrated look. ‘I always knew you were a bit of an idiot.’

John Paul tries to fight back his own grin, ‘Cheers!’

‘How did you sleep?’ Craig asks, eyeing the throw blanket rolled into a ball at the end of the sofa.

‘Okay. Better than I would have back home even before the town’s people turned up with their stakes and pitchforks.’

‘Nah, mate,’ Craig chuckles, ‘Hollyoaks’ moved into the twenty first century now; it’s all about homemade bombs and prescription overdoses.’

‘Thanks, Craig,’ John Paul says sarcastically, taking a slice of toast from the other boy when he offers, ‘that makes me feel _so_ much better.’

‘What are best mates for?’ Craig says, and John Paul can’t fight the answering smile.

‘True,’ he replies, and everything is perfect for a while.

 

+

 

‘What are you going to do now?’ Craig asks two nights later as they lie on the couch, feet by the others head. It’s cramped and uncomfortable but neither move. There had been a phone call the night before from Frankie; exactly as John Paul had anticipated, she’d been excited to tell her son all about the latest gossip, unaware that he already knew more than most. ‘You shouldn’t listen to everything you hear, mum,’ he’d said, even though they’d all known it was true.

‘I don’t know,’ John Paul tells him honestly, wondering why it is he can’t just stay exactly like this for the rest of eternity, smelly socks and cricked necks be damned.

‘Maybe you should just wait for the next big drama to hit the village and then sneak back and hope everyone’s too busy to notice you.’

‘I definitely wouldn’t have to wait long; you’d think we were all in an episode of _Eastenders_ the amount of chaos that hits our town!’

‘Except we’re much prettier,’ Craig grins, propping his hands behind his head and closing his eyes.

‘You could always move here to Dublin,’ Craig says after a while, voice hazy with sleep, and John Paul’s heart skips a beat.

‘Um,’ he murmurs noncommittally and continues to watch Craig as he falls into slumber. He doesn’t mention that it’s something he’s dreamt about constantly since he arrived here.

 

+

 

‘Mum! Mum, _calm down_ , I’m _fine_...I know, I’m sorry, look, I have to go but I’ll call you later.’ He hangs up, shoving his mobile back into his jeans pocket and takes a deep breath.

‘How’d it go?’ Craig asks, leaning against the door frame.

‘Predictably; she’s upset, hurt, and furious all at once and doesn’t know what to do about it. I _hate_ that I keep putting her through this,’ John Paul sighs, burying his head in his hands.

‘Do you regret it?’ Craig asks, and something in his voice alerts John Paul to the fact that what he says next is important, _vital_ , to the way everything continues.

‘No.’

Craig nods and there’s an understanding respect in his gaze when John Paul look ups. It’s the right answer.

‘Good,’ Craig says, offering John Paul a small smile. ‘If there’s one thing we should have learnt over the past two years it’s that regret is a useless emotion.’

‘That’s pretty philosophical of you,’ John Paul says, corners of his lips tugging upwards.

Craig shrugs, ‘I was always deep.’

‘Sure.’

‘But seriously,’ Craig continues, ‘even when things fall apart, it’s pointless regretting them. Especially if you were happy whilst it lasted.’

‘I was,’ John Paul says, and his voice is quiet, childlike. ‘Just for a while, I really _was_ , for the first time since...’

‘Yeah,’ Craig says, understanding.

‘Are you, you know, happy?’ John Paul asks him, dreading the answer.

Craig looks down at his hands, ‘It’s all well and good my telling you not to regret stuff, but it doesn’t mean I follow my own advise.’

‘What do you regret?’ John Paul says, voice catching.

Craig meets his gaze then and it says more than his words ever will.

‘Everything,’ he replies, and it’s enough.

 

+

 

Craig persuades him to leave the house a week after he arrived, pushing him out of the door and telling him of prearranged plans to meet his friends down the pub, and it’s alright because they’ll love him. John Paul’s not so sure about that, but he lets Craig drag him along anyway. It’s the least he can do.

They’re all nice enough, bubbly and energetic and not quite as dramatic as the folks back home, and John Paul feels himself relax, not noticing the subtle glances many of them throw his way.

A pretty redheaded girl arrives, grinning at them all and waiting for an introduction.

‘Oh,’ Craig says, ‘Jenny this is John Paul, John Paul, Jenny.’

‘Oh, so _you’re_ John Paul,’ she says and then notices the others’ glares. ‘What? What did I say?’

John Paul’s not sure whether the butterflies in his ribcage are from anxiousness or excitement, but the blush working its way up Craig’s neck is enough to make him grin regardless.

 

+

 

‘Does anyone know you’re here?’ Craig asks as they stroll around the park on Saturday morning, enjoying the sun.

‘No, I’m not sure how they’d have reacted if I’d told them.’

‘Yeah,’ Craig nods. ‘It’s been nice though.’

John Paul laughs, ‘You trying to get rid of me, Craig Dean?’

It’s meant as a throw away joke but Craig’s face turns serious, his tone stern.

‘No, I’m not.’

‘Oh,’ John Paul says, and he thinks he understands. It doesn’t surprise him as much as perhaps it should.

‘What do you think?’ Craig asks, and John Paul’s amazed to hear nerves in his voice.

‘I think...I think maybe that would be disastrous.’

‘Right,’ Craig says and his hurt is obvious.

‘Doesn’t mean I’m saying no,’ John Paul tells him and takes two steps before realising that Craig has stopped in his tracks.

‘Really?’ he says.

John Paul shrugs, ‘Really.’

And when Craig kisses him, it’s familiar and intense and _perfect_ , so much so that it takes John Paul several minutes after they’ve pulled away and continued walking to realise that it’s happened in public.

 

+

 

‘I’m afraid,’ Craig says, settling comfortably next to John Paul on the sofa so their legs and arms are touching, ‘that if I tell you to go back to Hollyoaks and sort things out with your mum, then I’ll not see you again.’

It’s a fair enough point; John Paul knows that, away from the bubble he and Craig have formed for themselves, the world still continues. Back home people will tell him not to be such an idiot, that he’s already messed up enough lives, and that this is just another bad decision in a long line of them. Of course, none of those people really know _him_.

‘I’m afraid that if I _don’t_ go back to Hollyoaks then I’ll never leave,’ John Paul confesses, dropping his head against the back of the sofa.

‘Is that such a bad thing?’ Craig asks, taking his hand and drawing gentle patterns across the skin with the pad of his thumb.

‘I’m not sure yet,’ he says, but squeezes Craig’s hand anyway.

‘You know,’ Craig says after a few minutes of just enjoying each others’ company, ‘I think we’ve talked more in the last week and a half then we did in the entire duration of our relationship.’

John Paul has to agree.

 

+

 

It’s the hardest decision he’s ever made to pack his bag and head to the airport, Craig at his side, clasping onto his hand as though it’s a life line.

‘I need to do this,’ John Paul says for the twentieth time. ‘My mum deserves an explanation, and my sister’s will need someone to vent their anger out on.’

‘I know,’ Craig says, squeezing his hand tighter.

‘Besides, unless I go back and face the music the village will never move past it. They need to know that Kieron’s a good guy.’

‘I know,’ Craig repeats, dejectedly.

‘That’s my plane,’ John Paul tells him mournfully as the flight number is called over the loud speaker.

The crowds fade away as they walk towards the boarding gate, trying to make a hundred steps last a lifetime.

‘Kiss me, Craig,’ John Paul says, lips quirked in an ironic smile that speaks of the past and the future and a thousand moments in between.

Craig doesn’t need to be asked twice.

For a moment John Paul wonders if he’s actually _physically capable_ of pulling away for more time than it takes to breathe, but then his flight is called again and he knows that he has to.

‘Call me when you get there,’ Craig says, choked with emotion, letting go of his hand slowly, and looking as though he’s having to stop himself from grabbing it back.

‘I will,’ John Paul says, offering him a small, helpless smile.

‘I’ll see you next week!’ Craig calls as John Paul walks through the barrier, his statement sounding more like a question.

‘You will,’ John Pauls calls back, honestly, laughing as he sees Craig smile. ‘You will.’

It’s not everything, but it’s enough, and they’ll have forever to make it theirs.


End file.
